


Put an ocean and a river between everything, yourself and home

by Anaile20GH



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, art made by DaugtherofKings, beta'd by tinybluehands, for futbal_minibang, title is part of England from The National, you should listen Flame by The Black Keys too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaile20GH/pseuds/Anaile20GH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life resembles a novel more often than novels resemble life. - George Sand.<br/>Or in which they realize there's certain kind of love between them after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put an ocean and a river between everything, yourself and home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anonlytree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonlytree/gifts).



> Thanks to the lovely tinybluehands for being my beta and DaugtherofKings for the banners!

 

 

_Life resembles a novel more often than novels resemble life._  - George Sand

  
  
**_Athens, 2007_**  
  
Silence. An obligated calm.  
  
Enough time to think of what he has missed, and some more to blame himself for the mistakes he has made. Precisely the amount that’s necessary to let the feeling of defeat cover him like a blanket and let everything become more gloomy and painful.  
  
However, Xabi thinks that defeats can be enjoyed as well as victories. It’s true that the taste they leave is bitter and takes a little longer to vanish, but once it’s not there anymore, the need for a victory, the sentiment of that fresh and sweet feeling, the search for it becomes a  _leitmotiv_  and he works harder for it, he focus all his energies to reach the target, keeping his passion more effervescent than ever. He takes his body and mind to the limit and maybe victory doesn’t come in the next try, but it’ll be there, as long he doesn’t forget what he must learn from his losses.  
  
Steven, on other hand, thinks that his mate’s point of view is a little masochistic, and he doesn’t really give a fuck about the psychology he pretends to practice after a loss. He always wants to win, see the happy smiles on the face of the fans for the rest of their lives, and to feel the satisfaction that he’s, in part, responsible for it. He feels it’s his duty, and he’s had enough losses in his current days as a footballer to feel like he can give lectures about  _how to deal with the fact that I could have made it and instead I blew it to hell._  
  
-“Fuck it”- Steven breaks the delicate silence that filled the room. His bed is perfectly made, the sheets aren’t even wrinkled and the pillows look so comfy that they invite you to hug them for an entire night. Instead, in Steven’s arms lies a heavy body, tired and with little purple spots on its legs. The moment they entered the room, Steven practically collapsed in Xabi’s arms, hugging him with all the strength he had left, after the longest 90 min of the whole season. And he just needed that, the consolation in his arms, the promise that tomorrow he’ll have one more chance to bring the glint in the eyes of the people who put that weight on his shoulders.  
  
-“Fuck what?”  
  
-“Fuck your theory, I hate this, I hate losing. I hate seeing others lift what I thought would be mine, I hate second medals, I hate Kaka. If I see him next time, I’ll give him a t-shirt with  _and hell waits for you, sucker_.”  
  
-“I’d love to see that”  
  
-“You’ll be the designer, you’re talented enough for it”  
  
Xabi smiles weakly. He has no energy for it, Steven has taken everything he could give and more. It’s been a while since the last time they did this; imprint on their skins the anger, frustration and sadness for not having reached their goal. In these rare moments, they’re even rough with each other, the need of closure after a cycle of mistaken decisions dominates their instincts.  
  
It’s the only reward for being wrong, tasting the blood in the lips of your teammate.  
  
When Steven thinks about it (not that he thinks  _about it_  too much), metaphorically speaking, defeats have never tasted better, and he’s learning to be a good loser thanks to it.  
  
And Xabi… he thinks that, for the fury he see in Steven’s eyes when he comes inside of him, and how lost he feels in all that blue ocean, it’s worth to lose over and over again.  
  
Not that they put those thoughts into words, of course.  
  
They can't afford be openly stupid to each other.  
  
-“This time it wasn’t for us, Captain, we can only have one Istanbul in our careers”  
  
-“I thought we were good enough this time”  
  
-“No, we were not”- Xabi sits on Steven’s lap, his hands on his Captain’s chest – “We weren’t, and now we must work to be so. That’s our reality Steven, we missed goals, we didn’t have the legs and we didn’t have a strategy. For once, assume that we lost because in the end they were much better than us”  
  
-“And we were that day? You believe that we beat them because we had a better team?”  
  
-“No, they were better. But at that time the only thing we could do was to try and believe we could”-  
  
-“And what changed this time?”- Steven interrupts Xabi’s annoying rambling and he’s feeling slightly upset now because Xabi can’t avoid being an arrogant smartass (and probably right, of course).  
  
-“This time we thought we had it just by believing that we could do it again, Stevie. We weren’t practical, they were. End of the discussion”  
  
Steven remains quiet, staring at the serious face of Xabi who’s still sitting on his lap. After a brief moment, Steven starts to trace invisible lines over Xabi’s strong thighs and then grabs his hips, forcing him to move.  
  
Xabi braces himself for what’s coming next.  
  
In Steven’s mind there’s no other thing than this urgent want to make Xabi swallow his own words.  
  
Xabi’s thinks that Steven is punishing him this time, because he always pretends to have the last word.  
  
In the aftermath, Steven feels guilty for one million reasons, but mostly because of the brutal force he unleashed over Xabi’s body. He grazes his back with unhurried fingers, rests his lips over Xabi’s shoulder and whisper I’m sorry loud enough for Xabi to hear.  
  
Xabi turns his face and looks at him in a way that says  _you didn’t do anything that wasn’t asked._  
  
They fall asleep, Xabi’s arm around Steven’s waist.  
  
The next day they’re returning home, with enough time to make amends for their mistakes.  
  
They look at each other, with apologetic smiles on their faces before climbing into their cars and going to their houses.  
  
They’ll have another moment, truth be told, they can’t always win.  
  
 _Because they need a good excuse to be like they want to be…_

  
  
  
**_Singapore, summer 2009_**  
  
Steven knows that it’s a fact.  
  
That is the best decision he could have made.  
  
He knows that Xabi only makes wise decisions regarding with his career, his life, he’s too practical. And what would be more practical that returning to his country and playing for motherfucking Real Madrid?  
  
 _He was secretly wishing Barcelona but what the hell…_  
  
It stings… whatever he’d choose.  
  
He needed an excuse and Rafa gladly gave him a good one.  
  
And now he’s going to play for a team that will surely bring nothing but satisfactions and secure winnings to his professional life.  
  
However, Steven thinks his future former teammate is a coward. It’s too much for him isn’t?  
  
It was too much to ask.  
  
Not that he was thinking of actually asking him. But he’s so naïve, he thought it was enough to simply wish for it. Waiting for the obviousness of what would happen, if he’s not with them anymore, to give him some signs; it really doesn’t take a brilliant mind to draw conclusions about it.  
  
 _Stay… don’t you know that I need you there?_  
  
If someone could make a resume of the last season for Steven, it’d be like:  _a couple of mistakes, and a cup was swept away, along with the person who knew what to do when the shit hit the fan._  
  
It’s been a while since Steven breathed and felt victory. That side of him – brilliant, right and successful. He can see it in the eyes of his daughters, in the smile of his wife, feel it in the joy of his teammates, in the chant of the crowd.  
  
It’s a good feeling.  
  
And it’s been a while.  
  
But Xabi was also there. The last time that it was big and important.  
  
For some reason, it doesn’t make sense.  
  
Steven briefly asks himself if it will make sense for Xabi, when he’ll be in Spain, winning.  
  
He wants to slap himself, because he thinks that the rest of the world shares his corny way to see certain aspects of life.  
  
Others would say utopic (including Xabi) but there’s no one to judge his thoughts, only him.  
  
The thing that really bothers him, to say the least, is what the hell he’s going to do when nothing goes according to plan?  
  
When the sting in his legs will crawl under his skin through his body, reaching his chest?  
  
He was accustomed to feeling reassuring fingertips traveling through his wrinkles, finding its way to his neck, chasing his pulse under the skin of his arm and finishing on the inside of his wrist.  
  
Like tracing a path.  
  
And straying in between.  
  
 _Don’t judge yourself…  
  
Don’t do this to yourself…  
  
It’s not only your fault…  
  
Don’t let them put that weight on your shoulders…  
  
It’s our failure…  
  
It’s ours…_  
  
… He needs alcohol.  
  
They don’t share a room this time. Is Jamie who’s in the other bed, eating peanuts and watching reruns of “Lost in Space” with Chinese subtitles.  
  
He really  _really_  needs alcohol…  
  
He goes straight to Xabi’s room. They had exchanged some words in the changing room before the match which included Xabi saying that he made a decision and he was going to leave soon.  
  
He just said it without hesitation. He didn’t even blink.  
  
Steven felt a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
And Xabi immediately started looking everywhere but on Steven’s face.  
  
It was almost a whisper when Steven said  _do your best with what is left for you here._  
  
  
While Steven is walking to Xabi’s room, he searches for the right words, for what is fair to say in a moment like this. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s going to say goodbye to a teammate.  
  
But this is him, and fuck, he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to deal with a new season feeling lost already and he knows it’s going to be like exactly like that.  
  
He reaches the door and when he’s about to knock, he hears Xabi’s voice talking in Spanish. It’s like a soft humming without sense for Steven, but he listens anyway. It’s totally a different thing to hear Xabi speak English and Spanish and he secretly enjoys the contrast of the man between both languages.  
  
Finally, after a few minutes, Steven knocks the door, and when Xabi hears the knocking, he knows who it is and he doesn’t want this right now.  
  
He’s not ready to say goodbye yet. Not exactly.  
  
He’s still justifying himself for his decision, trying to rationalize that is for the best, since he’s no longer needed anymore.  
  
That he did his best and gave everything he had to have it all.  
  
That he can’t share the weight of the responsibility for the entire humanity that his captain carries on his shoulders  
  
That he’s not enough for the team, not enough for him. And to be honest, no one and nothing is enough for him.  
  
It just too much and too complicated.  
  
 _It got too far…_  
  
Xabi says goodbye to his wife, drops the phone on the nightstand and walks to the door. When he opens it, he sees Steven smiling sadly to him. He gets this urgent need to wraps his arms around Steven and to hug him there as hard as he can. To tell him that he’s sorry for everything that turned out wrong, sorry for the bad passes on the field, sorry that he will not be there to share a victory with him.  
  
That he’s sorry because he will not be there for his losses anymore.  
  
Instead, he stares at Steven waiting for what he has to say.  
  
-“I came here to invite you for a drink”  
  
-“Now? Are we allowed to do it?”  
  
-“I’m the captain and you’re going to be with me. Plus, it’s preseason and we have a good excuse anyway”  
  
-“We do?”  
  
-“Of course, it’s not every day that you go to Real Madrid, right? You’re going to be the new galactic guy”  
  
Xabi swallows hard.  
  
-“I almost didn’t notice the sarcasm, try better the next time”  
  
-“Shut up and come. I’m thirsty”  
  
  
It’s their third drink. It’s scotch. Fuck pretensions.  
  
They talk about mundane things. About their kids, about their wives, about how fucking hot this place is.  
  
About everything and nothing. Avoiding the one thing that’s hanging in the air around them, like a cloud, a grey and heavy one.  
  
Soon, it’ll be too big to keep ignoring it. And they know it.  
  
Xabi lights up his second cigarette of the night after a brief moment of silence. Steven watches him carefully, studying how the smoke swirls in the air, how it leaves Xabi’s mouth. How Xabi holds the cigarette between his fingers, the face he makes every time he tastes the sour drink.  
  
-“What, Steven?”  
  
-“Nothing, just thinking about how vicious you look right now”  
  
-“Are you mentally judging me?”  
  
-“Do I have the right to do it?”  
  
-“You don’t have vices, Steven. Of course you’re judging me”  
  
Steven smiles cheekily.  
  
-“I’m here, right? Drinking with you, passively smoking with you…”  
  
-“It’s easier to live through others what we don’t dare to do because of the fear to be judged”  
  
-“Oh boy…and this is only the third round”  
  
Xabi laughs and Steven hides his smile in the glass.  
  
Another moment of silence.  
  
They look into each other eyes.  
  
-“I’m sorry”  
  
-“I’m sorry too, Xabi”  
  
-“I tried, you know? I really tried”  
  
Steven doesn’t say anything else. He only nods and finishes his drink. He takes Xabi’s glass and drinks it too.  
  
-“Come on, time to go”  
  
  
It sinks in the moment they’re awkwardly standing in front of Xabi’s room. That they don’t have too much time now. They silently agree on the next thing that would happen once Xabi will close the door behind them.  
  
Xabi tastes like alcohol and cigarettes and Steven takes in everything he can. He kisses him until the taste vanishes and, when Steven looks into Xabi’s eyes, there’s a mix of sadness and shame behind those tones of brown.  
  
 _I wish I didn’t want this either_ … Steven thinks  
  
 _I wish I only cared about what is right…_  
  
-“We don’t have to-”  
  
-“Yes, we do”  
  
-“Ok then…”  
  
There’s a strange and intentional tenderness in every gesture and touch of Steven’s that has Xabi confused… and that is also knocking the air out of his lungs.  
  
It’s not the same, it’s not what they usually do.  
  
The motive here is totally different and Steven is indeed resolute to prove something.  
  
Whatever it is. It’s all written in his stare when they cross their looks.  
  
Xabi ignores it completely, or tries to, and remains there, taking it all in.  
  
He closes his eyes, the lust and hunger invading his self and body, though a bit different this time.  
  
There’s no pain in it. There’s no anger in it.  
  
Only a desperate want.  
  
When they’re still breathing hard, their hearts galloping at a dizzying speed, Steven feeling the warm skin of Xabi’s neck on his lips, they’re already regretting everything.  
  
But it’s done.  
  
 _Whatever it is._  
  
When Xabi wakes up at dawn, the other side of the bed is cold. He fixes his eyes on the ceiling and waits for the sun to rise.  
  
They go back to England, and take a plane to Spain.  
  
They don’t talk about it. They don’t talk at all.  
  
Espanyol crush them. Steven is angry and Xabi only plays for 15 min.  
  
He can’t take watching Xabi playing for his team for last time, so he abandons the field.  
  
They go back to England again. And Xabi says goodbye.  
  
As polite and formal as he can. Steven only gives him a hug. A hard one. And a sentence.  
  
 _It’ll be never like this and you know it._  
  
And Xabi knows.  
  
  
 _He goes back, of course, he takes a seat in Anfield and cheers for them. They share a beer sometimes with the rest of the team or exchange some words after the game, before Xabi has to go back to Madrid. They sometimes talk through the phone, like good mates. They wish the best of lucks before a big game. They congratulate each other when a baby is born, when a cup is lifted.  
  
They’re fine… They’re good friends. Like always.  
  
The longing is ignored. The want is ignored. They remain polite through the years.  
  
The memories come and go, uninvited. It stings, but no one says anything.  
  
They can’t afford to say anything at all.  
  
But they’re fine._

  
  
  
**_Madrid, August 2013_ **

  
_-“You’re exaggerating, honey, it’s not like that, he’s like a normal five year old kid”_  
  
-“He confronts me, Nagore! He confronts you and he’s only 4.3 ft.; he doesn’t do what we say. I think that we need to evaluate what we’re doing wrong, he can’t put on a show every time he wants something! He’s spoiled and it’s our fault!”  
  
 _-“Are you still mad about the other day? Come on, every child does that”_  
  
-“I’m worried because that natural tendency to rebel can push him to be the new leader of ETA reloaded”  
  
 _-“You worry too much. And you’re having too much free time for your thoughts, a child is normally synonymous with a rascal”_  
  
-“That’s Ane. Our boy is on another level, and he manipulates you according to his own will. The other day when I told him NO, he just went straight to you and you just pet him, instead of being on my side; now I’m the bad guy. And now they’re going to be three!”  
  
 _-“I think you need to get over it”_  
  
-“When he’s 15 you’ll remember what I’m saying today”  
  
 _-“Oh because you were the most quiet teenager of your block, right?”_  
  
\- “That’s not the case here, focus, Nagore!”  
  
 _-“Oh chill out. Just tell me how your leg is… we’re missing you around here, the shop is doing great…”_  
  
  
Xabi stares at his window, the sun basking the city under the yellows and orange rays. He lets Nagore’s ramblings be his companion in the loneliness of their home. The domesticity of Nagore’s stories lull him into a quiet calm for 45 min. Until he’s alone again with his thoughts, with his glass of scotch, his bad leg and the soundtrack that he’s used to listening to these last few days.  
  
Nagore is right, he has too much free time to overanalyse everything. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to go to his hometown, giving the excuse that he’s recovering and it’s better for him stay in Madrid.  
  
The truth is, he wants to be alone. He needs to be alone.  
  
Not being available to play, the fear of not recovering well enough to remain competitive for the team, is making Xabi really restless.  
  
Xabi tries to see the bright side of the things, though, and now, with all the rumours that have all the journalists rubbing their hands, with all the available material, the post-Mou hangover… Xabi smirks and feels a little grateful just to be recovering from his surgery. Away from the questions, away from the  _oh there’s no trouble in the changing room… Bale will be a great incorporation for the team…the price you said? I don’t have anything to say about it, ask the board about that… Casillas is a great captain there’s no question about it…_  rehearsed answers for annoying questions.  
  
Xabi feels relieved that, at least, he isn’t going through all that.  
  
But not being able to play, that’s another subject.  
  
He knows he’s been a pain in the ass lately, and he doesn’t object when Nagore said to him that she was taking the kids with her to Donosti just to take a few days to visit her shop and the family, and  _you should come, it’ll be good for you._  
  
Xabi instantly said “I’ll be ok, you should go, this thing in my leg shouldn’t be an obstacle for your plans…”  
  
He just wants to be alone. With his gloomy soundtrack and his expensive drinks.  
  
And with his thoughts.  
  
His cell phone again starts to vibrate in his pocket.  
  
When he sees who’s calling, there’s a burning feeling in his stomach and it isn’t the scotch.  
  
-“Hey Stevie how are”-  
  
 _-“Tell the driver where the fuck you live”_  
  
-“What?”  
  
 _-“Just tell him will you?”_  
  
Xabi gives the directions to the cab driver and demands  _dele el telefono al señor de nuevo…_  
  
 _-“Thank god because I was about to punch him so hard”-_  
  
-“What are you doing here in Madrid?”  
  
 _-“I came here to see you, what do you think I’m doing here, moron?”_  
  
Xabi knows that Steven is smiling.  
  
-“And why didn’t you tell me that you were coming?”  
  
 _-“Because I didn’t want to... we’ll talk in a bit, alright? See you then”_  
  
The line goes dead. Xabi starts to sweat.  
  
And it’s not the alcohol.  
  
He sees his glass half empty and fuck, he needs a refill like right now.  
  
30 minutes later, his door bell sounds extremely loud for his ears.  
  
He’s still sweating.  
  
When he opens the door, he’s greeted by a smiling Steven looking as cheerful as ever.  
  
He swallows hard.  
  
-“Hey you”  
  
-“Hola…erm…hello”  
  
-“This is a nice neighbourhood. It suits you”  
  
-“Thank you”  
  
They stand in front of each other for a brief moment before Steven breaks the awkwardness surrounding then.  
  
-“This is the moment when you say come in, I think”  
  
Xabi laughs and says come in.  
  
He closes the door.  
  
  
-“So this is what you do when you have a bad leg? Drink and listen to sappy songs?”  
  
-“It’s The Black Keys, Steven”  
  
-“Whatever”  
  
-“I also do my rehab”  
  
-“And you don’t shave, shame on that beard, Xabs”  
  
-“Give me a break will you? You came here to patronize me, or what?”  
  
Steven smiles and Xabi feels a little bit lighter. Also sharing a drink with a good old friend makes things quite simple.  
  
Of course.  
  
-“You sounded on edge the other day when we talked, I know how you’re feeling, kind of sucks to be stuck like this”  
  
-“Sucks doesn’t even begin to explain it”  
  
-“Exactly, where is your family, anyway? I was expecting to see Jonny”  
  
-“They’re in Donosti, they’ll come back in two days”  
  
-“Oh…”  
  
 _Oh_  
  
-“How is Alex? And the girls?”  
  
Steven stands up from where he sits and looks on the bar for the bottle they’re sharing. He takes a shot and it burns his throat. He fills the glass and walks again to his seat in front of Xabi.  
  
-“Oh they’re great, the girls are growing so fast. The other day I was in the house and went to their game room where they were playing and I found Lilly and Lexie singing. I stood in the door to see them and, to my surprise, I could hear them singing something like “bow down bitches”. After my brief seconds of shock, I asked them what they were doing and they gave me a look that said  _are you stupid or what?_  I changed tactics and just asked what they were singing and again they gave the same look. Lexie took pity on me and said  _Dad…it’s Beyonce_  like what world do you even live in? Of course I let them be and scream out of their little lungs  _this my shit bow down bitches_ ”  
  
-“No…and what did you do?”  
  
-“Ran to Alex to ask her what the hell are we doing with our little girls of course. I was preparing myself to have the fight of the week but again for my surprise I found her in the kitchen singing and dancing to Blurred Lines”  
  
-“Blurred what?”  
  
-“Blurred Lines”  
  
-“What is that?”  
  
-“Jesus, Xabs really, what world do you even live in? Is that Yank who sings about the hottest bitch in the place and how much she’s an animal and how he can liberate her and shit”  
  
-“Oh… and you went to Alex to actually discuss with her your daughters’s taste in music?”  
  
-“Yes”  
  
-“What did she say?”  
  
-“She gave me the same look as the girls and said to me the exact same thing…  _Stevie, it’s Beyonce!_  From that day onwards, I decided that I hate Beyonce”  
  
Xabi’s laughter fills the place, his vision blurred by tears. Stevie has nothing else to do but have a laugh himself.  
  
-“Madre mía, Ane, thank god, is too little for that. She’s still in Disney world, driving us crazy with the princesses and all that”  
  
-“I have faith in Lourdes, though. At least she likes Gene Kelly”  
  
-“What?”  
  
-“She loves him, the other day I was watching the telly and she was with me playing with her toys and I was changing channels and on TCM there was this movie with him,  _Signing in the Rain_ , and when she listened to the song he was singing at that moment, she started laughing and singing and clapping and it was funny to see her babbling  _you were meant for me_. She loves that song, I had to learn it just to sing it with her”  
  
Xabi thinks that that must be a lovely thing to watch.  
  
-“Jon is the one who’s giving me a hard time. He actually worries me”  
  
-“He’s only five, Xabs”  
  
-“Now that’s what Nago says to me all the time. But I think if we don’t do something soon, he’ll become a little terrorist, that’s for sure”  
  
-“He’s a true Scouser, I have to be on his side”  
  
-“He drives me crazy sometimes, the other day he actually questioned me because I said to him he was grounded… _who gives you the right_ , he said”  
  
-“Where do they learn that?”  
  
-“I don’t have any idea, I only know that when my  _amatxo_  or my  _aita_  told me something, back when I was a child, I knew that I must do whatever they say, without questioning it. Now these kids, they question everything, and they’re manipulative, and they don’t come with a manual though probably they should because they’re sucking the life out of me”  
  
-“How much have you been drinking?”  
  
-“I don’t know that either… this is probably the fifth”  
  
-“No wonder”  
  
-“Well you started anyway”  
  
-“It was supposed to be a funny anecdote”  
  
-“Huh… actually it was, yeah”  
  
A guitar riff starts playing and grabs Steven’s attention. Xabi is drinking from his glass while Steven listens to the song playing in the background. He pays attention to the lyrics for a moment. It’s a song about broken hearts and how easy it is to lose track.  
  
He fixes his eyes on Xabi, who is staring at him curiously.  
  
-“What?”  
  
-“Don’t you think about it?”  
  
Xabi’s eyes wide slightly, almost imperceptible, but Steven notices it.  
  
-“About what?”  
  
-“You want me to say it?”  
  
Xabi doesn’t say or ask anything else.  
  
He remains unmoved on his seat.  
  
Steven stands up and closes the space between them.  
  
He goes on his knees in front of Xabi and puts his hands over his cam walker.  
  
Xabi covers Steven’s hands with his and pleads with his eyes for him to stop whatever he’s about to do.  
  
But he doesn’t say anything at all.  
  
Steven completely ignores Xabi’s eyes and removes the piece of plastic from his leg and suddenly Xabi feels naked.  
  
He grazes the skin on his leg and rubs his ankle carefully.  
  
Xabi’s breath accelerates when Steven’s hand is under his shorts going upwards and upwards...  
  
Steven feels the grip on his wrist so tight, almost cutting the blood’s circulation of his hand.  
  
Xabi watches him warily, breathing hard. He’s got his words trapped in his throat, he knows what he must say and he knows what he must do.  
  
Steven cuts his train of thoughts when he wraps his arms around his waist and hides his face on his neck. He remains there, just hugging him and breathing him in, and Xabi, the only thing he can do is to hug him back, close his eyes and surrender. Just surrender.  
  
-“Just let me… please”  
  
Steven whispers in his ear and Xabi can’t say anything, he just can’t. It’s so hard to deal with urgent desires and denials when you know you want something so badly, that he wants this with a fierce conviction which is embarrassing to admit at the same time.  
  
That he thinks about this so much. That he missed this.  
  
He misses him.  
  
And what is written on Steven’s face when he stops being a coward and finally sees his eyes, his mouth…  
  
He can’t say no to him.  
  
And sweet lord, it hits him like a wave when he tastes Steven’s mouth, how familiar this suddenly is. How his body seems to come to life when his hands are discovering him, again.  
  
And that’s enough for him to shut any rational thought out of his brain.  
  
Their kisses are unhurried and they feel strangely calm despite the fact that it’s been so long since they were like this. It feels like this is their first time.  
  
Steven lifts Xabi carefully from where he’s sitting and he takes his sweater off, while Xabi tries to do the same with trembling fingers, savouring every minute of this.  
  
-“Where?”- Steven asks between kisses and Xabi looks uncertain all of sudden when he hears his question.  
  
-“Xabi, tell me where you want this” – Xabi looks around trying to find the answer.  
  
For some reason, he briefly thinks  _fuck everything_  and he walks to his and Nagore’s room with Steven behind him.  
  
The bed is soft and comfortable and again it doesn’t matter.  
  
Not right now.  
  
Now it’s Steven’s turn to hesitate but he sees Xabi’s determination to do this in the confines of his bedroom that he puts his insecurity aside and envelopes himself again in Xabi’s heat.  
  
Steven tries to be gentle, he doesn’t want to hurt Xabi’s bad foot, or hurt him at all, until Xabi forces him to be like he used to, with him.  
  
Steven is torn between complying with Xabi’s wish or doing as he thinks he should.  
  
He quiets him with a hand wrapped around his neck and the other between his legs. He licks his ear and shushes him by applying a light pressure on his neck.  
  
He takes his time to prepare him, takes his time to explore him. He enjoys every single reaction from Xabi, who’s shivering and moaning and gasping like never before, or at least that’s what it feels like.  
  
When he’s finally inside him, that’s a different story. In that moment, there’s no other place he wants to be, and he wants Xabi to know this.  
  
He doesn’t know if there will be another chance for them to be like this, so he takes and gives everything he can.  
  
In his dizzy state, Xabi can smell Nagore’s perfume on her pillow and it’s so wrong, so beautifully wrong, he throws it onto the floor and wraps his legs tightly around Steven’s waist and comes so hard between them, sinking his teeth into Steven’s shoulder, making him hiss from the pain and leading him to his climax.  
  
They lie there, on the dirty sheets, naked and sweaty, Xabi’s head on Steven’s chest, the rise and fall lulling him to sleep.  
  
They share a breakfast the next morning, courtesy of Xabi. They talk and laugh and everything feels so light.  
  
Steven has a plane to catch before noon and Xabi calls a cab to take him to the airport.  
  
They’re standing in the door, the cab waiting outside. They’re staring at each other waiting for the other to talk. It’s Steven who laughs first and Xabi follows him.  
  
 _We’re fools_ … they mentally agree.  
  
-“So, Captain, what are the expectations for this season? We’re going to be in the Champions league next year at least?”  
  
-“That’s what we want”  
  
-“Being modest?”  
  
-“No, being realistic. I do believe we have a good squad but you know… we’re going to try, that’s for sure”  
  
-“You sound very polite already, you had been rehearsing or what?”  
  
-“Must be prepared”  
  
-“I think it could be your year”  
  
-“You think?”  
  
-“Yes, I do”  
  
Xabi takes Steven’s hand and leans on him, putting his head over his shoulder. Steven lifts his head and kisses him, and it’s bittersweet.  
  
He rests his forehead on Xabi’s and he has this need to say just one thing.  
  
-“Sometimes I believe that I’m waiting for you, that it’ll make more sense if you’re there, with me… since it’s the only thing that I can have with you”  
  
Xabi feels his stomach drop. He just stares at Steven trying to find what to say to that.  
  
There’s not much to say, he thinks. Steven doesn’t give him too much time to think up an answer anyway, because he got his mouth trapped with his; later, he’s opening the door and climbing into his cab.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Xabi is washing the sheets and then cleans the kitchen. In the afternoon, he receives a text from Steven saying that he bought a bottle of his finest scotch in the airport and that  _it’s fucking pouring over here_. Xabi is finishing his bottle, he’s certainly drunk but not enough to answer now, before it’s too late…  
  
 _Whatever you might think, it’ll be mine as much as yours even if I’m not there, so you better go for it… cabrón_  
  
He turns off his phone and falls asleep on his couch till almost 10 am the next day.  
  
  
 _Xabi thinks about it more than he should. Suddenly it’s hard to ignore.  
  
Steven thinks about it all the time.  
  
He tries to do his best on the field and they’re doing well.  
  
Xabi keeps telling him that he must go for it.  
  
Steven starts to believe that they probably can.  
  
And still, they don’t talk about it.  
  
Whatever it is…they don’t mention anything about it.  
  
However, one night in October, Steven receives a message from Xabi that simply said:  
  
“I miss you… and this time I can’t go back”  
  
Steven knows that Xabi’s probably drunk and he mustn’t give so much importance to those words.  
  
He fails to do it... and purposefully.  
  
He answers him: “You want me to cut you loose or should I better tighten up the slack? Go to sleep, Xabi”  
  
Xabi smiles stupidly and does what Steven says. While he’s walking to his room he’s singing about broken hearts… and how easy it is to lose track. _

  
  
  
**_January-April 2014_**  
  
After what feels like ages, Xabi finally signs his new contract with Real Madrid.  
  
For two years.  
  
Everything is bright in the future for him and his family.  
  
Madrid has never looked so promising before.  
  
He knows it’s the best choice.  
  
He’s actually convinced of that.  
  
He celebrates with his wife and friends and it’s a great moment.  
  
It’s just… when he returns home, his phones starts ringing and he knows who it is.  
  
He was expecting it.  
  
 _-“Congratulations Xabier”_  
  
-“Hi Steven…hold on a second…”  
  
He tells Nagore that he’s going to take the call outside.  
  
-“Say ‘Hi Steven’ for me”  
  
-“Ok”  
  
 _-“So… how are you?”_  
  
-“Great, now that it’s finally done”  
  
 _-“Yeah, the press was going crazy already. I had a good laugh with the one linking you with Chelsea, that was the best really”_  
  
-“Yeah, they didn’t even know where to put me, I think they sent me to Italy too”  
  
 _-“Are you happy?”_  
  
-“… I’m pleased”  
  
 _-“Then everything is ok, right?”_  
  
-“You know it is”  
  
 _-“Ok then…”_  
  
A pause…  
  
-“Steven?”  
  
 _-“Yes, Xabi?”_  
  
-“Why you didn’t ask me to return?”  
  
 _-“Would it have made any difference?”_  
  
-“Probably not”  
  
 _-“So there’s your answer”_  
  
-“Yes, there’s my answer”  
  
 _-“Bye, Xabs”_  
  
-“Bye, Steven”

  
  
***  
  
  
Xabi can’t even bite his nails anymore.  
  
Is the minute 70 and if they don’t score soon it’ll be the end of it.  
  
They’re so close now. So so close…  
  
Alvaro is shouting at the telly and he almost throws up in Alvaro’s living room ten minutes earlier when Glen scores that own goal.  
  
 _Please don’t fuck this up…please…_  
  
Minute 78, Coutinho makes a fantastic play that ends in a goal and Anfield goes wild, Alvaro and him with it.  
  
It’s the longest 16 minutes, and finally when the whistle blows, Xabi lifts his fists in the air and Alvaro jumps around the living room.  
  
He sees the players, sees Martin and Simon smiling, and then he sees Steven hugging Flanno with tears in him eyes.  
  
He sees Steven crying and in that moment he feels he’s been hit by a truck…by a fucking train.  
  
He can see on his face how much this means for him…how much he wants this.  
  
It’s too much to handle.  
  
He goes to the bathroom and locks himself in it, washes his face with cold water and tries to breathe slowly.  
  
The image comes back to him, Steven crying and thanking whatever is up there to be thankful to, and Xabi laughs but it comes out like a sob.  
  
He grabs the edge of the washbasin so hard, his knuckles go white. He closes his eyes tight and curses, telling himself  _get a grip._  He remains in the bathroom until his breath slows down to normal levels. When he’s finally out, he sees Alvaro walking up to him, his little girl on his side.  
  
-“You’re ok?”- Alvaro asks him offering a beer which Xabi takes; in a blink, the bottle’s half full.  
  
-“Yes, just… that was very stressful”  
  
-“Are you fucking kidding me?? I almost had a heart attack, but they were great. I think this is it”  
  
Xabi wants to believe that… he really wants to.  
  
-“Me too”  
  
Later, when he’s in his house, he writes a message.  
  
 _Just four more… aye aye captain!_  
  
Minutes later, an answer.  
  
 _You’d come? You’d be here in May?_  
  
Xabi smiles, and he hopes he can.  
  
 _I’ll be there, just make it happen…._

  
  
***  
  
How whimsical life turns out to be sometimes.  
  
Nah… how bitch life turns out to be the majority of times.  
  
Xabi knows that he’s not going to Anfield in May now. No matter what will happen next. He knows it isn’t an option anymore.  
  
What’s hurt the most is that he is going to blame himself forever for this.  
  
 _Don’t judge yourself…  
  
Don’t do this to yourself…  
  
It’s not only your fault…  
  
Don’t let them put that weight on your shoulders…  
  
It’s our failure…  
  
It’s ours…_  
  
Xabi texts him…  _let me know when I can call you_  
  
He doesn’t receive a text back and drowns himself in his expensive scotch, falling asleep on the couch. Nagore wakes him up later in the night and with some difficulty he goes to bed trying not to show his drunken state.  
  
The next day, he’s in the parking lot of Valdebebas when Steven calls him.  
  
-“Hey”  
  
 _-“Hi…”_  
  
-“It was not your fault, you know that, right?”  
  
 _-“Xabi, I-”_  
  
-“No, just listen please, I know you, ok? I know you well enough, so do me a favour and stop feeling sorry. Every one of you was an idiot yesterday, so don’t take all the responsibility on yourself. Let the rest take a part of the shit too, got it?”  
  
 _-“I tried, you know that I tried”_  
  
-“I’m not even going to discuss that”  
  
 _-“I just, I want to make it worth, all this, again. Why has it got to be this hard?”_  
  
-“It’s always worth it, Steven, no matter what happens. With you there, it’s always worth it”  
  
 _-“Now what?”_  
  
-“Keep your head in the game, just keep it in the game”  
  
 _-“That’s all what it’s left for me isn’t it? The consolation that at least we tried”_  
  
-“And that you’ll always have something to look for, you’ll give your best and everyone will still love you”  
  
 _Don’t have any doubt about it…  
  
-“Sorry that I didn’t answer yesterday”_  
  
-“I understand”  
  
 _-“You’ll still come? Even if we lose the chance, you think you can be here?”_  
  
-“You know that I’ll try”  
  
 _-“Ok”_  
  
-“Be well… please?”  
  
 _-“Yes Xabi”_  
  
-“Right… Listen, I have to go but if you want I can call you later”  
  
 _-“Fine, whatever you want”_  
  
Xabi feels the sunrays warm his cheeks, April in all its greatness.  
  
He hears Steven sighs loudly and he closes his eyes trying to find the words to say what Steven needs to hear from him.  
  
-“You made me realize something the other day, when I saw in your eyes how much you put into all this, what it means for you to win. You want the people to believe that you deserve to be where you are, when the truth is, those who loves you, they believe that with the same fierce intensity with which you give your all. And they want the fucking championship just for you, because it wouldn’t be theirs, it wouldn’t be mine, it would be yours. You fucking deserve it and we want this only to see you lift what is yours, so how much of this you want to hear to convince you that you’re so much and we don’t deserve you?”  
  
 _You’ve already won whatever I could give to you  
  
-“I’ve heard you, Xabi, that’s enough for me”_  
  
-“Ok then”  
  
 _-“Ok”_  
  
They listen to each other breathing for long seconds, enough to start feel embarrassed for how much they can have only listening to each other’s soft sighs.  
  
Steven clears his throat, startling Xabi who was lost in a daydream.  
  
-“So, I guess we’ll talk soon right?”  
  
 _-“Yes, we’ll talk later”_  
  
-“Ok, adios Stevie”  
  
 _-“Bye Alonso”_  
  
  
  
 ** _During the WC 2014… or on their break_**  
  
It was more painful for Steven than for him.  
  
Xabi has had the taste of victory on his lips, after kissing the metal reward of the conquers of his National Team.  
  
The metal burned and it was glorious.  
  
And fuck… all he wants is Steven’s lips burning with that feeling. Nobody else deserves this as much as he does.  
  
He leaves first, but knowing that Steven won’t get far and that he’ll be returning soon after him.  
  
A week later he’s settled in Portugal with his family for some deserved vacations, and Steven is with his girls 30 km away from him.  
  
 _-“Did you bring it?”_  
  
-“Yes”  
  
 _-“I can’t wait to see her with it, especially with the pink one”_  
  
-“I only brought the pink one so you have to order the rest”  
  
 _-“She’ll love it, she loves wearing it you know?”_  
  
-“You definitely can put your money on it, I think she’ll inherit more than your look”  
  
The call is interrupted by the statics and Xabi says goodbye after Steven hardly tells him where they can meet to have a chat… and pick Lou’s gift.  
  
They meet in a little restaurant near the coast, and Xabi can see that Steven is already waiting for him while he’s parking the car.  
  
He smiles when he sees Xabi walking up to him. He looks relaxed, considering everything he has gone through, he looks really well.  
  
Seems that he’s let a weight fall off his shoulders.  
  
Steven hugs him amiably, smiling so brightly that it warms Xabi’s insides.  
  
They sit at a table away from the other commensals and they talk, eat and drink coffee.  
  
They laugh at each other’s jokes and share little stories about their daily routine.  
  
A couple of hours later and four empty cups on their table, Xabi’s saying that it’s probably better to go back.  
  
Steven brushes his fingers with his knuckles and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips that Xabi catches the moment their eyes meet.  
  
Steven covers Xabi’s hand with his.  
  
And that is all it takes.  
  
  
 _It’s a simple room of a discreet hotel in the middle of the coast of Algarve.  
  
It’s Steven lips on Xabi’s shoulder blades and their limbs tangled under the sheets.  
  
It’s the knowing smile on Xabi’s lips when Steven circles his waist with his arm and brings him closer.  
  
It’s the sound of the sea, the orange patches all over the room, and the smell of tangerines.  
  
It’s how Xabi can taste Steven’s mouth, it’s how his eyes take in all of him.  
  
This is how they realize that there’s this certain kind of love between them, after all.  
  
And how they start to accept it.  
  
Without telling.  
  
This is how they know it._

 

**Author's Note:**

> For my muse (hell, sometimes I'm a romantic one...sappy I know ;P)
> 
> PS: the last part of the fic was inspired by [this](http://booperesque.tumblr.com/post/91732638982/forcaselecao-stevie-left-vs-xabi-right/)


End file.
